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Winterfell was in a panic.
The eldest daughter of Lord Stark was nowhere to be found. At first, it had not caused too much worry since she had been playing hide and seek with her older brothers. However, after an hour, the seven-year-old had yet to be found. The entire keep was looking for her, calling for the lady to reveal herself. Lady Stark was in a panic, Maester Luwin was forced to keep her in bed, worried for the babe in her belly. Little Bran was made to stay with mother and little Arya was near tears at the apparent loss of her sister.
Everyone was looking, even the whores of Wintertown left their beds to look for the lost girl. Whispers of Lord Stark’s sister echoed amongst the halls. Lady Sansa was not the first Stark girl to go missing. What if she had been taken like her aunt? What if wildlings had taken her away?
Jon searched, fretting that he had lost his precious sister who would call him her Aemon, who said he would be Father and she would be her mother, who said he would be her Duncan and she his Jenny. It was his responsibility to protect her and yet she was gone.
Jon searched and searched and searched.
The last place he looked was his small chambers that were placed further away from Robb’s and the nursery. He doubted Sansa would be there as Lady Stark had made it clear that the little lady was not to go there. It was not as nice as the other rooms and he doubted Sansa would like them even if she did look in.
Even so, he looked.
He looked and looked until he noticed the lid of the chest at the foot of his bed was ajar. Jon moved it more and found a sleeping Sansa huddled in the extra furs within the trunk.
“Sansa,” he whispered as he reached out and brushed her red hair from her face. “Sansa, wake up.”
She scrunched up her face in annoyance before mumbling and blinking herself awake. Her blue eyes opened and she looked up to him, still waking up. Finally, her gaze focused on him. Her lips stretched into a radiant smile.
“You found me.”
Jon smiled back. “I did.” He held his arms out to her and he awkwardly picked her up. Even though he was three years older than her, he could barely manage to carry her, although it was on his hip and her feet barely dangled above the ground. “We should get back to the others. They were all worried.”
Sansa didn’t answer and merely yawned before letting her head rest on his shoulder, letting her mind wander back to whatever pretty dreams she had left moments before.
—
He had heard whispers that a girl similar to Sansa had been seen in the Vale. Rumors that she had been hidden away by her lady aunt and then her lordling cousin. Jon’s aunt was searching for her as well as she fought against the Lannister forces. Jon could not let Sansa be found and used once more to make the North bend the knee. She had tried once with him but he was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He stayed out of the politics of the realm, which was why he was not dragon food.
Even so, he would only kneel to his cousin Rickon, King in the North.
Jon would not let Sansa be used as a pawn against him or the remaining Starks.
Bran had said that she was alive and that Jon would find her, but that was all the three-eyed raven would tell any of them.
He had hoped that he would find her waiting for him in the vale, a willowy creature in a tower, but she was not there. Lord Baelish had denied ever seeing the girl and those he had met in the Vale had said the same. Those under House Arryn let Jon and his men rest and resupplied them for their journey back North, but that was it.
Now, Jon journeyed back North to tell his cousins that he had failed once more. The men knew not to talk to him, lost in his brooding. All save one.
“You need to lighten up, Lord Crow,” Tormund said, slapping Jon on the back as they were a few days ride on their journey North. “You’ll find your lady soon. She’s kissed by fire. I bet she’s waiting for you to just find her.”
Jon wanted to growl that being kissed by fire had not helped Robb or Lady Catelyn or Ygritte, but he held his tongue.
That night, they made up camp and Jon wanted nothing more than to be alone, which meant checking the supplies to make sure nothing had turned rotten. Jon didn’t trust Lord Baelish and wouldn’t put it past the man to give them rotten supplies. He went through everything Ghost occasionally padding away and then coming back to his side to nudge him. Jon ignored him. He didn’t have time to brush out the burrs from Ghost’s coat.
Finally, Ghost began to whine and Jon froze. His direwolf never made a noise. Never. Not even in his dreams. Jon turned to his direwolf and saw that the beast was pawing at a large crate that had been put on the ground to reach the extra furs. Slowly, Jon walked over to the crate. Its lid was slightly ajar and he held his breath.
He pushed the lid inside and saw a girl with dark hair curled up amongst some spare blankets, covered in a grey cloak. Jon reaches for her tucking stray hair away from her face.
Of Sansa, brushing Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow.
“Sansa.”
His voice reached for the name. The name that haunted him.
My sisters are in King’s Landing.
The girl opened her eyes to him, so blue he might drown in them.
“Jon.”
She was in his arms in mere seconds, holding him tightly and Jon held her close to his chest. He felt her tremble. What horrors had she seen since going South.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”